miscarriage

I tried to write this first thing this morning, but I couldn’t. My day was going to be full and I didn’t feel like I could let myself have the therapeutic cry I knew this post would induce. One of my little ones, Snap, was sick. I was trying to make a plan for him for the morning. My other two had to gather pine cones for show-and-tell before being delivered to kindergarten. Then I had to teach a women’s Bible study before heading back to kindergarten for parent time. Other errands were squeezed in this afternoon and then we spent some time outside enjoying the beautiful crisp fall air together.

Now I sit in the quiet. Alone. Husband and kids all sleeping down the hall from here. I’ve enjoyed a day loving my family. And my heart is very full. A fullness that manages to sit there right next to the empty spots. Because these three precious ones aren’t my only babies. They’re the ones I can hold, can kiss, can comfort, can try to protect. But they aren’t the only ones. That is a sad truth I share with many others…families split between Heaven and Earth.

October 15: Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. I wrote about it last year. I write about it today. I’ll write about it next year on October 15th. But I think about it much more often. I grieve again at random moments. And I pray…for others who know that grief.

“God of love, thank you for the healing you continue to give to my own broken heart. Please embrace others who are hurting. Let no one take for granted the incredible gift of a child.”

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Tagged as: grief, loss, miscarriage, remembrance

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Ribbon Pin Since 2002, October 15th has been set aside for observance of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. Most people do not even know such a day exists. It’s not exactly the kind of day you want to be “celebrating.”

But for those of us who have experienced the devastating loss of a pregnancy or an infant, it’s another day (because goodness knows we think of it more than once a year) to remember the tiny lives that forever changed ours.

Lying on an exam table watching the face of an ultrasound tech who is trying to find heartbeats that aren’t to be found is a memory that doesn’t fade easily. The stabbing pain I felt in my own breaking heart was overwhelming. The only relief I found was in curling up in the classic position of that which I’d lost…burying myself in a pile of blankets. For days. Sometimes feeling nothing. Other times feeling like I was drowning in sorrow.

I hug the children I have here with me and remember those I never had a chance to hug. I spend today considering ALL of my blessings.

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Tagged as: grief, miscarriage, pregnancy loss, remembrance

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